


White Reception

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Mr. and Mr. Cobblepot [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Best Man Jim, Cake, Dancing, Fluff, Future Fic, Kissing, Love, M/M, No Bad Vibes Here, Slow Dancing, Toasting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff, he returns!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: After a beautiful ceremony, Edward and Oswald must now entertain their guests and ensure their reception goes smoothly (or as smoothly as it can when half the guests are from criminal organizations, the other half makes up the law enforcement agencies that either thwart or cut deals with the former, and most of the guests have a personal vendetta against one or both of them). This is the part that does proceed smoothly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the (possibly even fluffier) continuation of the fluffy wedding fic I recently published. Enjoy.

Edward and Oswald greet guests in the receiving line. They know everyone, of course. Ed had been very meticulous in the vetting process; yet they have never been formally introduced to many of their guests. Ergo the pair feign ignorance and make introductions to the spouses they may one day use for leverage, and the children that Eddie has filed away in a locked drawer that may as well be labelled “bargaining chips”. 

Oswald shakes hands with all the guests, holding his cane aloft in his left hand as he puts his arm around Ed’s waist. Ed keeps his right arm around Oswald, a clear message that he will not be shaking hands with hundreds of people, thank you very much. Oswald intercepts some moronic attempts deftly, well aware of his husband’s distaste for touching people. Their guest list is relatively cultured, and most pick up on his cues and defer to Oswald for the formality of shaking hands. 

They make nice with donors, officials, commissioners, millionaires, child billionaires. They schmooze the elite, chat with the everyday men and women, and insinuate plans with members of the criminal underworld. It’s going quite well, and everything proceeds smoothly.

Then Barbara, Tabitha and Butch roll up for their turn.

“Hey Ozzie, no hard feelings, right?” Barbara says cheerfully. The trio had done their best to tear them apart and pit them against one another in a mad scramble to the top. They had failed. Ed and Oz were stronger than ever, and they were firmly seated at the top.

“Of course not,” Oswald replies, hand tightening on his cane as he feels Ed grip his hip harder, “That’s all in the past, right, Eddie?”

“You betcha,” Ed twitters, planting a kiss on Oswald’s cheek. “I gotta _hand_ it to you, you three helped make Ozzie and I stronger than ever.” He pauses, smiling wickedly at them, “We owe it to you for bringing us together, really.”

Tabitha and Butch are fuming, the reminder of their failure and humiliation putting a murderous gleam in their eyes. Barbara keeps her cool, putting a firm hand on each. Their plan to tear Oswald and Edward apart had backfired miserably, leading Oswald to confess his feelings to Ed and ultimately kickstarting a new, romantic relationship between the two. Ed had needed some time, of course, but it had been the beginning of their life together, not the end. For Babs and Co., knowing that their nefarious scheme to tear down their arch-rivals had only made them more powerful… Well, was a bitter pill to swallow, especially when said rivals were laughing in your face and making underhanded comments about the time they cut off your hand.

“Well, isn’t that nice,” Barbara simpers, leading her partners away by the arm. Continuing to converse with the happy couple would only afford Ed the opportunity to slyly work them up with more deceptively snide comments.

“Oh, and Barbara,” Oswald calls. She pauses in their retreat, turning her head slightly. “I hope you don’t mind, but the table arrangements were such a hassle, it seems they’re impossible to get just right. Poor Ed was going crazy trying to make everyone happy. I finally got him to settle down and let things fall where they may. Anyways, as it turns out, you’ll be seated at the kids’ table. I hope that isn’t a problem?” 

Barbara snarls and turns, leaving Butch and Tabitha to take hold of one of her arms, respectively, and drag her away. Oswald smirks.

“I love it when you do that,” Ed whispers into Oswald’s ear. Oz tilts his head to peck him on the lips. The line is far from done. There’s plenty more fun to be had.

***

With the last guest seated, it’s time for their first dance.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” Gabe says into the microphone, his soothing baritone settling the crowd almost instantly into their seats, “I’d like to invite you all to watch as Edward and Oswald have their first dance. I’ll be coming around to let you know when you can join them on the dance floor. Here they are, let’s give them a hand.”

The crowd cheers. Ed and Oz duck their heads, blushing. Oswald leaves his cane at the table, and Ed supports him with an arm around his waist as they make their way onto the floor. They pause beneath a massive, glimmering chandelier. Cobblepot Mansion was nothing if not grandiose. Gabe clinks his champagne glass for quiet and a hush falls over the room. 

Oswald cues the small orchestra they had hired, and they begin playing Shostakovich’s _The Second Waltz_. Strange as it may seem, Oswald’s handicap plays well into a waltz, his normally awkward limp made graceful by the soothing melody of the bassoon. It gives a natural bounce to his step that Ed merely imitates in his dancing. Up down up, one-two-three. They dance in perfect symmetry. 

Ed and Oswald come together, pausing to hold one another before moving into the next part of the dance. Gabe begins signaling people to join them as they spin around the floor. Bruce and Selina join, Lee and Alfred, on and on until everyone with a dance partner is moving alongside them as they whirl across the floor. Everyone’s eyes are still on them, mesmerized and careful to give them the room they need to continue. When the song ends, they come together a final time, panting as everyone cheers. 

They kiss and the crowd of onlookers roar, somehow clapping louder than before. They break apart and give a small bow, departing the dance floor to more cheers until the DJ puts on an upbeat punk rock tune.

The photographer follows them outside for some formal portraits while there’s still daylight. Their guests can occupy themselves with dancing and hors d'oeuvres in the meantime. Ed and Oz pose together, letting the photographer direct them for some shots. Other times she calls for them to do what comes naturally. They look into the camera, at each other, kissing, holding hands, smiling; she snaps dozens of pictures before she is satisfied.

“Are they any poses you want to do?” she asks, “Otherwise I’m quite happy.”

Oswald sneaks a look at Ed, who shakes his head ‘no’. “That will do,” Oswald answers. 

They head back inside; the music is pounding and their guests are going wild on the dance floor. Edward and Oswald sneak back into their seats to give Oz’s leg a rest, and to start breaking into the wine. A few people come up to chat with them and they are thoroughly enjoying the festivities. 

The DJ takes a break, the orchestra filling in by taking it away for a slow dance. Edward and Oswald head back out into the floor, swaying together, quite possibly a little bit tipsy from the wine. Oswald is having a little trouble, uncoordinated from the influence of Chardonnay. They giggle, tripping over their own feet.

“Stand on my feet,” Ed says, walking them around in a circle. Oswald throws his arms around Ed’s neck before standing on his shoes.

“They’ll scuff,” he warns, smiling at his husband. 

“Who cares?” Ed says, jubilant, his hands on Oswald’s waist as he walks them around the floor. He spins, then dips Oswald exaggeratedly low. Neither one of them can seem to stop smiling as the slow dance carries on, and then comes to an end.

The next song the orchestra plays is a rollicking quick step. Ed and Oz make their way off the dance floor, where they’re intercepted by Alfred Pennyworth.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asks, extending a hand to Edward, “I seem to have lost my partner.” Sure enough, a quick gaze about the room shows Lee Thompkins in deep conversation with James Gordon. Surprise, surprise.

Oswald swats Ed’s backside. “Have fun,” he says, a smirk on his face as he makes his way back to his seat.

“Hope you don’t mind if I lead?” Alfred says, taking Ed’s hand and leading him back to the center of the floor. They're about the same height, so it's not out of the question.

“I’m versatile,” Ed replies with a small, close-lipped smile, preferring not to give away a preference. Then they’re off, twirling across the floor. Alfred surprises Edward with his skill and agility, and he doesn't seem to tire. He drags Ed up against him only to spin him away, then tugs him back so Ed’s back is to his chest. Ed drops, looking to test his ability, astonished as the butler quite literally swings him back into another hold before dipping him. Ed snaps up out of the dip into another quick step before Alfred leads him into another spin.

Alfred swings him back and then into a _lift_. Ed has never been lifted in his life. It’s terrifying for a moment, and then exhilarating as he just goes with it, trusting Alfred to know his limits. He’s not exactly light weight, and as Alfred bounces him from one cradle into another he is nothing short of amazed. In fact, he finds himself a little short of breath as the fast-paced dance continues, noting that Alfred has started to break a sweat. Breathless as the song finally comes to an end, Ed nods his head towards the bar.

“Water, please,” he tells the bartender, looking to Alfred. 

“Gin and tonic,” Alfred says. “Bit of advice for you, mate,” he continues, turning to make it clear that he is looking at Oswald, “I’d be careful with that one. He’s not as harmless as he looks.”

Ed grows hotter under the collar, ready to defend his marriage to this nobody.

“I think you already knew that though, yeah?” Alfred finished, looking back at Ed.

“I wouldn’t have married him if he were harmless,” Ed replies, taking a long pull of the water the bartender brings him.

“Yeah, I figured. You’ve got a bit of a past yourself, I’ve heard.” Ed doesn’t respond. In his experience, it’s the best way to get a person to provide more information without revealing too much yourself.

“Well, best of luck to you both. You’re quite a lovely dancer, by the way.” Ed smiles, he can’t help his vanity.

“You’re not so bad either,” he says, watching Alfred as he heads back to check on his charge.

Taking his water with him, he makes his way back to sit with Oswald, wanting to give his feet a rest. Who decided that all dress shoes needed to be so uncomfortable?

“You’ll never guess who I just spoke to,” Oswald remarks as he takes a seat.

“Lee Thompkins.”

“How did you-,” Oswald begins, taken aback. Ed had been rather engrossed dancing. Of course, Oswald had been rather engrossed with watching him.

“I was dancing with her partner,” he says, “and of course I can sneak at peek a you and dance at the same time, Ozzie.”

“Well, do you think you can guess what she said, my clever husband?”

“She wouldn’t have happened to warn you about me, did she?” Ed says.

“Alright, Eddie, there’s no way you could have overheard-”

“I just got the same speech about you, from Alfred.”

“Who?” Oswald asks. He must not have been a very relevant guest, he knew everyone of importance here tonight. Oswald would make him pay for this indignity, talking to his husband behind his back, threatening his marriage… There wasn’t much he could do about Lee, but this man-

“Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s butler. And quite the dancer, I must say.” Ed replies. “He said you weren’t as harmless as you look.” Oswald sighs. That wasn’t so bad, he supposed. It was rather truthful, after all.

“Lee Thompkins told me to be careful, and she felt the need to remind me of the outcome of your relationship with Miss Kringle, as if I wasn’t already well aware. It was an insult to my intelligence, really. Not only that, but she called you a ‘meticulous psychopath’. I couldn’t tell her that was exactly _why_ I love you, but I did tell her to mind her own business and to never talk about you like that in my presence again, so there's that.”

“Funny how they're concerned for our safety,” Ed muses, “You’d think they’d be grateful that two more dangerous criminals are off the relationship market for good.”

They sit and chat some for a few more songs, and then it’s time for the meal. Bells signal the dinner hour, and everyone quickly finds their way into their seats.

Jim stands to give the first toast, “I’m not really one for heartfelt speeches, just ask my exes.” The crowd chuckles. “I’ve got a nice quote here I think we could all take to heart, ‘Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance.’ I know these two have had their ups and downs, hell, I’ve had my ups and downs with them,” he pauses for more laughter. “But love, true love, is something you can never give up on. Oswald and Edward never have, and we’re here tonight to celebrate their enduring commitment to one another. To the grooms!”

“To the grooms!” the crowd echoes. Everyone clinks glasses and sips from their drinks. Edward and Oswald lock arms as their drink from their glasses, in celebration of the first toast to their life as a married couple.

Harvey snatches the mic from Jim, looking a little more than tipsy as he begins speaking, “Now, it’s not a real wedding without an Irish blessing. So, in the spirit of Ireland, ‘Let's drink to love, which is nothing—unless it's divided by two.’”

“Hear, hear!” cry the Sullivan and Riley crime families, toasting heartily and drinking heavily. That’s the Irish for you.

The heads of Gotham’s most prominent families (and crime families) each take a turn toasting to the newly wedded couple on behalf of their families (and organizations). When the last toast is made, Oswald stands. 

“Edward and I want to thank all of our guests for taking the time to celebrate with us today. We are truly humbled by the show of love and support that we have received from you, and the city at large, not just today, but also over the last several months. A special thanks to all the media outlets here today, there’s nothing I like better than free publicity,” a few chuckles circulate, mostly from the reporters.

“No, really, Ed is particularly fond of being named ‘Gotham’s Greatest Power Couple’ by the _Gazette_. Truly an honor,” Oswald deadpans.

Now most of the room is smiling, or at least faking it very well. Ed ducks his head and jokingly covers his face. Oswald puts a hand on his shoulder. “This is certainly a special day for Edward and I, and I hope that the support that you've shown us will continue. We are committed to holding that title for as long as we can, and we know it will be so much easier with all of you by our sides. Enjoy your dinner, and again, thank you all for being here today."

Waiters and waitresses begin doling out servings, pouring wine and lighting candles. Everyone digs in, beginning the first dish of a five-course meal.

Dining is largely uneventful; Edward and Oswald make small talk with a few more people who abandon their meals in favour of wandering over to greet them. It takes some time, but eventually the waiters being clearing away dishes and the DJ starts up again with a quickly thumping tune. Their guests had quite a bit to work off before they could possibly have wedding cake.

“Did you want to have another dance?” Ed asks.

“Ed, I’m heavily intoxicated as well as bloated from all the food I just ate. I’m exhausted and I’m not moving.”

“Good,” Ed says, resting his head on Oswald’s shoulder, “Alfred really tired me out. And so did the wine. And the champagne. And all that food… So much food.” He closes his eyes and buries his face in Oswald’s neck. “I can’t wait to go to bed with you tonight.”

“I hope you don’t think we’re going to sleep, Edward.” Oswald teases.

“Maybe I was going to attempt to sleep while you fucked me,” Ed sasses.

“Ed! We’re in public,” Oswald tilts his head down to whisper into Edward’s ear, “And you owe me from earlier, remember?”

“That was not my fault,” Ed says, “He was driving way too fast, we should have had time for a quickie.”

“Ed! Your mouth… I should not have let you get this intoxicated. You talk even more than you normally do when you’re like this.” At least Ed was keeping his voice down, even if the alcohol has loosened his tongue. Oswald wasn’t so drunk that he wasn’t still conscious of their image. 

“You love it,” Ed smirks, leaning against Oswald.

“No, I love _you_.”

“Ozzie…,” Ed sighs, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.

For quite some time they remain there, talking to one another and their guests. It seems like hardly any time at all has passed from the end of dinner to the clinking of Jim’s glass.

“Alright folks, who left room for cake?” Jim deadpans. The crowd responds with a mixture of desperate groans and laughter.

A massive, multi-tiered wedding cake is rolled out, topped with their likenesses.

“I still think you’re too tall,” Ed murmurs. Oswald rolls his eyes, they’ve had this conversation already. He has a pretty good idea on how to get Ed back, anyways.

The two of them take hold of the cutting knife together, pressing the knife into the cake to make the first cut, then another to complete the slice. Oswald lets go off the knife, gingerly removing the small slice with his bare hand.

“Open wide,” he tells Ed, smashing the cake into his waiting mouth and smearing frosting across his face.

The crowd laughs uproariously as Ed sputters, slack-jawed and shocked. He somehow manages to pout while eating what little of the cake actually made it into his mouth.

“Revenge is sweet,” Ed mutters.

“Oh, shut up,” Oswald laughs, leaning in to lick Ed’s face clean to the clamor of their guests.

“You missed a spot,” Ed says, pointing to his lips.

“No, I just saved the best for last.” Oswald goes up on his toes to meet Ed’s lips, his hands cupping Ed’s face. Wolf-whistles ring through the room.

Then all hell breaks loose.

**Author's Note:**

> Coming soon! Part 3 of the Mr. and Mr. Cobblepot series: Red Reception.


End file.
